


in the long night

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: Character Studies (Dragon Age) [18]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Chocolate, Dragon Age II Quest - The Deep Roads Expedition, F/M, Friendship, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: Varric Tethras and the elder Hawke share a talk around the fireside in the Deep Roads.  A gift for oneshallop.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Series: Character Studies (Dragon Age) [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/478264
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7
Collections: Hightown Funk 2020





	in the long night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oneshallop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneshallop/gifts).



It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought. Of  _ course _ it was dark. It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it? 

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago. There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night. They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that. The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark. It disquieted him. He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support. Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching. He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath. 

_ This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out _ , he thought sourly. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level. Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings. He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side. He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow. Safe. He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled. 

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him. Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards? No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away. This was a good distraction. “You really think Bartrand managed to convince  _ quality  _ muscle to come along with us? Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition. Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away. “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem. I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue. Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing. Such as yourself,  _ partner _ .”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well. “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.” She bent over the fire, concentrating. It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric. 

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor. “It’s unnatural.” Then she glanced at him. “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands. “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human. Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously. 

“Born and raised,” said Varric. “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid. They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface. My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move. Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.” He gazed into the fire. Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.” She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Family. Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?” Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke. He liked that about her. Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled. “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother. He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight. It’s  _ our _ fighting, right? That’s the important bit.” She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all  _ family name _ and getting ahead, all  _ Brother, you have to take this  _ **_seriously_ ** _ or they’ll eat you alive. _ He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously. “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers. For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones. “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother. Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back. Eh. Not much difference. 

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say.  _ You never talk about the other twin that way. _ But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings. At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten. It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it.. 

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes. If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered. He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed. “You never did say what you were doing out here. Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily. “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore. She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes. Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark. You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered. Or was he blushing? He wasn’t sure. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away. “ _ This  _ is why I like traveling with you. You’re right. If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.” She let out a long breath. “Ah, thanks for that. I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest. A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully. Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words. Why was he thinking of Bianca now? He shook his head. “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here. I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded. “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent. Didn’t feel right to let it go out. So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric. He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake. 

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice. It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know. Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.” She shrugged. “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here. I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric. He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily. “Felt sorry for the poor fellow. I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown. ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed. “Good point. Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it? Not Darktown, obviously. Kirkwall,” said Hawke. “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now? It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered. He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died. Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns. But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her dark eyes. 

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly. “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras! You’ve gone insane.’” 

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke. “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks. Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive. “I suppose,” she said. She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes. “Hmph. Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. He’d had her cooking before. Carver’s was far and away the better meal. 

“I’ve been saving these. For a special occasion, as it were.” She rummaged in the pack beside her. “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise. The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue. 

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped. “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said. “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.” She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial. “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall. The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside. The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price? Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them. Don’t know why.” 

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest. He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense. Bartrand would have scoffed. But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric. “They’re yours. You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say. Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke. She shoved the biscuits at him. “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right. If you insist. Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.” He reached out and took the top biscuit.. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand. The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.” Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit. It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth. He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate. He paused, savoring it. “Damn. No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit. Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling. 

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows. He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket. Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark. It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide. 

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly. “The fire’s a good one, Hawke. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why. “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric. “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours? Of course I do,” she said. She gave him a tired smile. “All right, then. I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same. It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion. It’d be a crying shame. We’d never live it down,” said Varric. “All right, you’ve convinced me.” 

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted. He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up. “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem. See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said. “But I’ll see you then.” She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling. The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps. He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this. He knew it now in his bones. Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time. No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly. Yeah. He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet. His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed. He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.


End file.
